


pink

by yuichi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Accidental Death, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Blood, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Smoking, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuichi/pseuds/yuichi
Summary: Sometimes, when Ten looks himself in the mirror, he sees him. And he smiles before the pain takes over. He smiles before tears stream down his face. He smiles before he remembers he’s alone now.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	pink

**Author's Note:**

> hello dear reader,  
> please mind the tags. if you feel uncomfortable with any of the topics listed above, i should warn you not to read further. it gets really emotional. i should also mention there's quite a lot of blood, unfortunately.  
> your safety and comfort should be top priority, so please do take care of yourself

- _pink_ -

Loud knocking wakes Ten from his sleep. He jumps up in the bed, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, heart hammering against his chest. Bare feet shuffle over the worn-down flooring, body still intoxicated from restless slumber. He manages to open the door before another slam against the door comes.

“Yes?” His eyes are wide, frantic.

“Rent.” Ten recognises the landlord, round frame and stern face.

“Oh.” It comes out in a whisper. “Sir, if I could have one more week…”

“Ten, I already gave you a week. Two in fact.” The man shifts his weight to the other foot, pulling up his trousers by the brown belt. “If you can’t pay, I’m going to have to kick you out.”

“Sir, please!” He resolves to begging, hands clasping before his chest. “I swear I’ll have enough by the end of the next week.”

The man eyes him, takes in his dishevelled appearance, blond hair sticking to sweaty forehead. “One more week, Ten. But that’s it.”

“Thank you!” Ten exhales in relief. “Thank you so much, sir.”

The man gives him a final look before turning around lazily to knock on the door of the apartment across his. Ten closes the door, pushing the rusty lock back in place. His palm comes to his bare chest, the heart behind the flesh and bones still frantic.

He drinks a glass of cold water, the liquid doing little to quench his thirst, and moves back to the bedroom. The grey hoodie he wore earlier in the day lies on the floor, covering a pile of dirty clothes hiding underneath it. He takes it anyway, and pulls it over his head. Thin wallet rests on the nightstand, sides tattered but he still keeps it for sentimental reasons. He checks the bills inside and stuffs it into the pocket.

It’s cold outside, November air slowly seeping between the streets, sky clouded in grey. Ten pulls the hoodie over his head and tugs on the drawstrings. He doesn’t want to meet anyone, doesn’t want to force a smile. He just needs to get to the store before he falls apart, fingers already twitching in the confinements of his hoodie pocket.

He picks up the cheapest wine bottle he can find and makes his way to the cashier. But halfway there, he spins around and takes another one from the shelf. He clutches the bag close to his frame, full glass echoing through the empty streets. A sound of laughter comes from behind him and Ten tries his best not to flinch at the noise. He hurries his pace and disappears into his building complex.

The hoodie is discarded the moment he enters, wine bottles resting on the kitchen counter. He searches for a wine glass through the top cabinets, frowning when he discovers they’re all covered in a thick layer of dust. A sigh slips past his lips, gaze shifting to the balcony door leading from the living room.

A gush of wind blows in his face when he pushes them open, rusty metal screaming from disuse. The railing looks like it’s about to fall on an unlucky passer-by, a stool and wooden table placed against the wall. Ten discovers a pack of cigarettes he lost a couple of days ago and hurries to pull one out. However, the package is thoroughly soaked which only makes the bitter sensation in Ten’s chest broaden. He tosses the package back onto the table and hurries inside, the cold tiles biting at his feet.

He feels frozen, inside out. He stops in the middle of the room, watching the sky turning darker and darker. He hates Autumn. There’s not enough daylight, not enough warmth to keep him sane. The coldness and the wind only seeming to want to rip him apart further. Except they don’t know that Ten’s already at his limit.

Yellowed curtains dance on the wind slipping inside through the opened balcony door, specks of dust rolling across the floor. Ten shifts, feet still bare, still cold. He wiggles his toes, unable to take his gaze off the sky. It changes so fast, not minding him. Not minding anyone. As careless and cold as it is.

Finally, Ten tears his gaze from the window and grabs both wine bottles. His feet make small _tap tap_ _tap_ noises as he heads for the bathroom. It’s grey, everything in this apartment is. Grey and rusty and dirty. As if it’s used by a ghost. Ten doesn’t feel far from it.

He plugs the drain and turns on hot water. Steam rises and quickly fills the small room. Ten shivers from the sudden warmth. He checks the cabinets for a bubble bath he stored somewhere inside, but he cannot find it. Maybe if he takes a sip, his mind will clear.

A bottle opener is resting on the edge of the bathtub. Trembling fingers wrap around it and somehow, despite feeling shaky and lightheaded, he manages to pop the bottle open. He takes a sip from the bottle itself. But it’s not enough, it’s never enough. So he tilts his head back and takes a long gulp, cool liquid sliding down his throat and burning his empty stomach. He pulls it away, wipes his lips with the back of his hand and drops his hand, bottle still in his grasp.

He hates the taste of wine. But he can’t stop drinking it.

The plastic bottle of bubble bath is lying next to the sink and Ten wonders how it got there. He picks it up and, placing the wine bottle between his arm and side, manages to open the sticky lid. He turns it upside down over the water, squeezing and watching pink liquid disappearing and turning into white bubbles.

He turns off the water and sets the bottle next to the tub. He strips from his clothes, skin pale and bruised. There’s a tattoo on his chest, but instead of emphasising his features, it’s making him look less human, less alive. His ribs are showing and if he were to trace them with a finger, he could count them.

Eventually, he slips into the hot water and it feels like he’s felt the warmth for the first time in his life. He lowers himself, watching the bubbles lick at his skin, crawling higher as he sinks deeper. They reach the middle of his chest and Ten’s lips curve upwards for a split second. Then the smile is gone, in a blink of an eye. Lips pressed firmly and messy blond hair falling into his eyes, Ten allows himself to relax.

Soft pink slips through the bathroom window, and Ten watches as the sun gives its final warmth for the day, its goodbye before it disappears. The long night awaits him, along with the horror it brings, the memories and emotions swirling in his mind and heart, unable to let go. Unable to be free.

He reaches for the wine bottle again and takes a long gulp. It tastes the same and Ten keeps drinking until he gets used to it. Or at least until he will no longer care about it. Until the taste of ash and wine mix together and just pass, until he’s left in the dark.

As the sun sets, the only colour is in Ten’s cheeks. They turn rosy with the alcohol, and Ten feels a little lighter, a little better. He tosses the empty bottle aside, ignoring it shattering across the tiles. His fingers still tremble, but only because he was a fool enough not to buy cigarettes. Some nicotine would help with this problem; some and some more.

He sits up, mind frantically working as he tries to miraculously find a package somewhere around the tub. His fingers meet something sharp, cutting through the thin skin but Ten ignores it.

“I know I left you somewhere here…” He tells himself, voice loud in the emptiness. “Come on.”

He’s impatient, the heart hammering against his chest. He needs it now. He needs it before he loses himself again, thinking about stuff he should’ve long forgotten. Things he should’ve let go, but they cling to him like second skin, gnawing at his insides and laughing menacingly in his mind. They point fingers, whispering bad words and snickering when he lets them affect him.

“Come on!” He shouts and finally stands up. He stumbles out, slipping and cutting his feet in the process. “Fuck!”

He wobbles over the floor, smart enough to get on his knees before he falls but not bright enough to remember there is glass everywhere, there’s no light anymore. And then he finds them, in the furthest corner of the bathroom, a blessed pack with a lighter inside. Ten lights one up with trembling fingers, orange flame flickering in the darkness. It’s the only light he needs, really, only light that brings comfort.

He takes a deep drag. Then another one. And another. He slumps against the wall, blond hair mated with a mix of sweat and water, bubbles clinging to the tips. When the drug kicks in, he manages to get up and turns on the lights. He stares at the shards for a moment, stares at his bloodied footprints, unaware of the stinging of his feet and knees. Unaware of the shards still clinging to the wounds.

He makes his way back into the tub and the bubbles turn pink. Smiling at the sight, he scoops them in his palms, cigarette hanging low between his lips.

“Aren’t you pretty now?” He coos and places them atop his head.

Reaching for the second wine bottle, Ten pops the lid open and replaces the cigarette with the wine. It cools the burn of the smoke, cools his body and mind.

He leans back, cigarette burning in one hand, a wine bottle in the other. He stares at the ceiling, unable to see a damned thing but pictures rolling in his mind like a film.

Soft kitty lips wrapped around a sweet smile. Brown eyes turning to crescents. Long blond messy hair hugging the firm jawline. Pulled in a bun or let loose. Shirtless because that’s how he loved to be when they were home. Tattoos hugging his arms and waist, muscles moving with his every step. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips, bare feet on the floor.

Sometimes, when Ten looks himself in the mirror, he sees him. And he smiles before the pain takes over. He smiles before tears stream down his face. He smiles before he remembers he’s alone now.

He can almost smell his cologne in the air, the scent of his body after shower or the softener on his clothes. Can almost taste his lips, mint chocolate mixing with smoke, a perfect combination of sweet and bitter. Can almost hear his laughter, heart skipping a beat at the mere memory, the sound of his deep voice waking every single cell in his body.

His touch still lingers on his skin. Burning him and mending him at once.

Tears slide down his cheeks, vision blurring. He brings the smoke to his lips, takes a desperate drag. He lets his hand fall again, still bleeding into the tub, bubbles slowly melting away as the water gets colder.

“Come back…” He whispers, smoke leaving his lips. “Come back, baby.”

Fingers wrapped around the bottle turn loose and it slips from his grasp. The contents spill over the bloodied floor, pushing the mess away. The scent of grapes fills the room.

“I know you can hear me…” Ten breathes and takes another drag of his cigarette. “Come on, Johnny. I’m right here… Just for you.”

But the only response he receives is the sound of water dripping from the faucet. Eerie silence surrounds him, and suddenly the walls are getting closer. Suddenly, all the air is gone and Ten can’t breathe. He struggles, gasps in desperate attempts to fill his burning lungs. The cigarette drops into the pink water and Ten scrambles outside.

He slips, cutting his inner thigh and letting out a scream. He can feel now. He can feel everything now. The pain, the torture, the loss.

“Please…” He gasps, hurrying on his knees and palms outside, towards the opened balcony door.

Cold air hits him in the face, making him tremble for he is bare and soaked. And it’s cold. So, so cold.

“Johnny, come back…” He mumbles, back falling against the cool wall. “Please… Please…”

He cries out, fingers scratching at the tiles until they bleed more, the shards of glass stuck in his flesh burning like raw fire. He screams into the night, breath white as he trembles, body fighting to keep him warm as he ignores his own needs.

His pleas do not fall on deaf ears, though, and a figure appears in the night. He stands next to him, leaning against the railing. Warm smile on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Ten gasps, covers his mouth with his palm and leaves red over his face. More tears spill from his glossy eyes, dropping over his arms, sliding onto the floor. “You’re back…”

“Of course I’m back, baby.” The voice is so warm and real in his mind.

Ten lets out a laugh, too shocked to move still. “You’re back… Johnny, you’re back. I knew you’d come for me.”

“Ten…” Johnny’s smile wavers and Ten realizes he fucked up.

“I can’t…” He chokes out. “I can’t anymore. Without you… I can’t. It’s hard. It’s so fucking hard.”

“I know.” He sees Johnny crouch, sees his hand reaching for his cheek. When he closes his eyes, he swears he can feel his touch. Warm and reassuring. “I know, baby.”

Ten sniffles, leans into his touch. But he quickly opens his eyes, worried he’ll disappear again. “I want to come with you. Please, take me with you.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Please.”

Ten watches as Johnny stands up and pulls away. He steps back and Ten scrambles to his feet, ready to grab him before he’s gone.

“Let me go, baby.” Johnny whispers, glancing at Ten’s grip around his wrist. “It’s time for you to let go.”

Ten shakes his head frantically. “No, never.”

“You can do this.” Johnny reassures him. “You’re strong, you’re smart.” He steps back again and Ten’s eyes go wide when he sees him walking through the fence and standing on thin air.

“No, don’t go. Please. Just…” He fumbles for words, desperation in his voice. “Please just stay. Please, Johnny, _please_.”

“You’re so beautiful.” Johnny tells him, small smile dancing on his lips. Ten notices it reaching his eyes this time. He also notices he’s gripping onto the railing instead of him now. He extends his arms, leaning over the fence.

“Johnny, come back to me! Don’t leave me alone!”

“I love you so much, Ten.” Johnny says and he’s so thin, so see-through Ten can barely see him. “And I will wait for you.”

Ten cries out his name, reaching forward, the metal digging into his skin. He forgets he’s still naked, forgets his body is still wet, feet still bleeding. And he leans too much, slipping over the tiles. A gasp leaves his lips in the form of a white mist. He’s falling and Johnny isn’t there to catch him. There’s no one to catch him now. And Ten breathes out the only name he knows as he’s heading towards his death.

“Johnny…”

**Author's Note:**

> my first johnten and i do this... this has been on my mind for quite some time, but i've entered some sort of a writer's block, and couldn't bring myself to connect words into sentences. this is my attempt of a, well, return?
> 
> thank you for reading and i hope everyone is doing well out there!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/yuichi31664032)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/yuichi31664032)


End file.
